A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Conventional wisdom says it takes at least half a year to craft a refined and exceptional sword, but Aetri managed to shorten that time.

It wasn’t a miracle.

It was simply because he had prepared so thoroughly.

There were other reasons too, of course. But if you had to pick the most important factor besides preparation, it would have to be the Dwarf who had dropped by a few times recently.

It was a familiar Dwarf, and his intentions were clear.

”Put in a good word later, will you? Hm? I’m not a bad Dwarf, you know. It’s just that my clan of Iron is a bit reckless by nature—we jump into things headfirst, that’s all.”

He mainly came by to ask for favors, but while he was here, he would often share his smelting techniques. He also added a bit of Dwarven philosophy on top of it.

”Is a method passed down by tradition always the best? No! The right thing is to take everything great from the traditional ways and innovate it into something new!”

Dwarves are always dreaming of progress. They’re never hesitant to accept, learn, and put new techniques to use. In that sense, they have a pure longing for advancement.

And perhaps because of this, Dwarves are also the most vulnerable to deception among all thinking races.

”Yeah, new techniques are great, aren’t they? Good. Let me teach you.”

Aetri himself could easily picture a Dwarf speaking like that.

If you had to name the race most often swindled by humans, Dwarves would undoubtedly be at the top of the list. And if a Dwarf spends too much time around humans, it’s only natural that he might learn to pull off the same tricks.

In any case, Aetri learned new smithing techniques and also benefited from their way of thinking.

”Innovation means blending the new with everything you already know.”

On top of that, he gained hands-on experience working with several precious metals—a stroke of luck no Blacksmith on the Continent could ever dream of.

Handling a variety of rare metals however he pleased was an extraordinary experience.

What’s more, Enkrid even managed to source a few Engraved Weapons along the way.

All of these things became his study; Aetri examined, learned, and mastered whatever came his way.

This was research. He built up his skills day by day, living out the same Everyday Life.

And amid all this, he began to see the bigger picture.

”If I combine three kinds of steel…”

This is the technique known as pattern welding.

So, which types of metals should he use? The three most famous steels on the Continent came to mind Valerian Mountain blue steel, Lewis Mountain Silver, and Uber Mountain Gold. These are commonly known as Blue steel, Silver steel, and Gold steel, and at the mines where these veins are found, rare metals sometimes emerge alongside them. Valerian steel, True Silver, and Black Gold are exactly those.

Aetri managed to acquire some of those precious three metals, as well as a bit of meteoric iron. And the sword he made with them is what’s known as Samcheol.

Of course, there are also gems and other special metals beyond those.

”But cursed metals are excluded.”

Those just don’t belong in an Engraved Weapon.

That cursed metal was what he got from melting down the armor taken from some cultist Enkrid’d killed a while back.

Even when Enkrid was away, Aetri never stopped swinging his hammer. He refined and refined the Valerian steel, True Silver, and Black Gold. Then one day, through a merchant group, he received some unusual iron.

The metal itself wasn’t particularly hard or flexible.

Still, the moment he saw it, he just knew it could be something special. His instincts buzzed. After that, it was like he was possessed—he worked almost in a trance.

He added innovations to the traditional techniques of layering and folding steel.

”It’s mysterious.”

He didn’t understand the principle. He doubted he could ever repeat it if someone asked him to do it again. Even though he had no real talent for it, it felt like he was crossing a cliff on a single tightrope. No, in fact, he was still balanced on that tightrope right now.

Strangely, even as Aetri was aware of the process, it was as if part of him had stepped back, watching himself with a detached gaze.

The part of him that was focused just kept hammering away—hammer, add Blue Steel, hammer again, layer True Silver, hammer, add Black Gold.

’He’s going to ruin everything at this rate.’

That’s how it should have gone. The part of him observing from outside felt a sense of crisis. The only way to make those three metals coexist was to keep each in its proper place.

Samcheol was the result of that research, but now he was ignoring even that. He just mixed it all together and let the heat bind it.

’This won’t work.’

The worry didn’t last long. Even that slipped from his mind.

He lost track of time. Even the moments he spent meeting with Enkrid became hazy.

When he accepted Will’s intent and infused it into the steel as they talked, it felt like he was focused again—but as soon as Enkrid left, it was as if everything that happened had taken place months ago.

Aetri’s apprentice watched him with anxious eyes, worried that his master might collapse at any moment.

It was clear, after all, that he was wasting away day by day.

’I hope he’ll be all right’

It was one of those days spent watching over him with worry.

Whoosh.

The wind blew hard, causing the wooden window to rattle. Soon after, even the door hinges began creaking, and then there was a solid thunk as the door swung open.

’Did the lock not catch properly?’

Lately, the security level of the Border Guard had been extremely high.

Not to mention, his master’s forge was guarded in shifts by four soldiers—there was no chance a robber would break in at night. The apprentice grabbed a lantern, rubbing his sleepy eyes as he headed outside. Even though it was early summer, he felt a strange chill and goosebumps running down his skin. He walked over to close the outer door, but suddenly stopped in his tracks. Beyond the open door, the darkness was pitch black—far too black. Was it really possible for it to be this dark, even at night?

A shiver ran down his back, and he felt a sense of foreboding. It was as if something was lurking just beyond that darkness.

And it wasn’t just his imagination.

A white hand shot out from the darkness. The apprentice was so stunned that he couldn’t even scream.

So this is what happens—when you’re truly terrified, no sound comes out.

This was the first time he’d realized that.

The white hand then rose up, raising just its index finger, and stopped right where a person’s face would likely be.

Two blue lights appeared beyond the darkness, followed by a voice.

”Shh.”

Only then did the apprentice realize he’d been holding his breath, and he let it out with a gasp. A figure sprang out from the darkness and stepped inside the house.

”Quiet.”

It was a witch.

Anyone could tell.

She wore a pointed hat, and whatever she’d done to her clothes, the jet-black robe seemed to absorb all the light from the lantern.

With each step she took, it seemed as if shadows scattered in her wake.

The Black Witch—that was the nickname of the Captain’s woman.

”I’ve been waiting for you.”

The words came from his master, who had appeared behind him without a sound. Startled, the apprentice turned around and saw those piercing eyes shining in his master’s gaunt face—just as they had looked over the last several days.

”I thought you might need my help.”

The witch spoke as she walked further in.

The apprentice, unable to comprehend what had just happened, also couldn’t remember how he managed to fall back asleep.

He vaguely recalled in a dream that besides the Black Witch, the Golden Flower, too, had stopped by the forge.

Because of that, he couldn’t tell if any of it had really happened or if it was just a dream.

And he couldn’t very well ask his master, either.

Of course he couldn’t talk to his master—he’d woken to the sound of his master’s hammering.

These days, whenever his master picked up the hammer, his eyes would go glassy, working the bellows and striking the metal again and again, like some kind of spirit.

As if intoxicated by the glow of the forge.

As usual, the apprentice set out some water and food at the side and stepped outside.

Escaping the heat of the forge, the cold air stabbed up his nose, scraped over his lungs, and left him shivering.

’Was it a dream?’

But if it was a dream, it had been too vivid.

And that afternoon, the apprentice found his way to the Dueling Hall of the Madmen Knights and relayed his master’s message.

”It’s ready.”

***

Enkrid made his way to the forge at a slow, measured pace—slower than usual. If someone had asked whether he was excited, of course he would have nodded. But it wasn’t as if his heart was pounding out of his chest, either.

It simply felt inevitable—only natural.

Aetri had given his word, and Aetri would keep it.

There had never been a moment’s doubt in that.

It was a faith as weighty as a knight’s oath.

”You’re here.”

Aetri, looking as if he’d lost half his body weight since before, greeted him Hollow cheeks and hands with bones jutting out caught his eye.

The forge was quiet, and peaceful.

Yes, it wasn’t stifling hot, just comfortably warm.

There was none of that heat that dried sweat into a crust.

The hearth was only releasing faint residual warmth now. Clearly, the fire had died down quite some time ago.

”So, it’s finished?”

Enkrid stepped inside with an air of indifference.

Aetri also handed him the sword in a similarly casual manner.

There was no scabbard.

The hilt was simple, and while it resembled Samcheol’s blade, there were differences.

’It looks the same on the surface, but—’

It was subtly different.

If someone asked exactly how, it would be hard to explain—hence, subtle.

Should he feel a shiver run up his arm the moment he gripped the sword?

No, that sort of thing doesn’t happen on demand, does it?

With these stray thoughts, he gripped the sword and gave it a few swings in the air.

Whoosh, swish.

Enkrid was honest.

It’s not moving me.

”There’s nothing special about it.”

”Yes, that’s just how it should be.”

”It’s duller than True Silver’s sid and doesn’t feel as hefty as Black Gold’s. I don’t think it’s as tough as Samcheol, either.”

He’d held more than a few famous swords in his hands. Even compared to the Samcheol Sword, there was a clear difference—actually, you didn’t even need to go as far as Samcheol. It was even duller than Penna.

If there was one thing to praise—

”The balance is exquisite.”

He tried holding it vertically to the ground, and then sideways. At least in the way it fit perfectly in his grip, this sword was genuine.

”It might not fall short of being called a masterwork, I suppose.”

But to call it an Engraved Weapon... well, he wasn’t sure.

”Will you give it a name?”

Wasn’t Oara’s Engraved Weapon called ”Smile”?

Her smile had been just as beautiful as that blade.

”Duskforge.”

The name is Duskforge—also called Dawnbringer, for it ushers in the dawn.

Genesis.

Why did I want to become a Knight?

Because I dreamed of a world different from one plagued by Monsters and Beasts.

That’s why I chose that name.

During the process of forging the weapon, Shinar asked if I’d consider naming it Kirheis.

Esther suggested calling it Night Sky or Star.

The others didn’t say much, but Rem made a rather serious suggestion.

”How about Dusky Sky?”

I was somewhat tempted, but in the end, I didn’t change the name.

”Duskforge is a fine name. It’ll take time to truly make it yours.”

Aetri said this, then suddenly slumped over.

His startled apprentice rushed over and lifted him into their arms.

”Master!”

Does an Engraved Weapon have to be extraordinary as soon as you take it up?

I don’t know.

But I do know one thing.

Enkrid saw a faint smile on Aetri’s face.

’I entrusted this to Aetri, and he’s satisfied.’

That’s enough.

Did he pour his soul into every strike of the hammer?

Maybe he did.

So, after he finished everything, Aetri—

”Did he die?”

Enkrid asked.

Had this sword become a posthumous work?

Maybe so.

He had certainly put in that much effort; that kind of smile could only come from such exhaustion.

”No, why would he die, sir?”

The apprentice replied in surprise.

Looking closely, Aetri was still breathing, though faintly.

He had simply collapsed from overexertion, but he wasn’t dead.

Honestly, I already knew that when I asked.

Maybe I just wanted some dramatic flair.

But in reality, things were rather plain.

The Engraved Weapon didn’t start speaking to me the moment I picked it up, nor did it emit any light, and the blacksmith Aetri hadn’t burned up his soul to leave behind some legendary final masterpiece.

”The scabbard’s over there.”

Even the scabbard was unremarkable, and neither the pommel nor the guard had anything special about them.

Only the blade gave off a faint blue sheen.

Still, it wasn’t the same color as Valerian Mountain Steel—it was closer to the color of the sky.

’Should I have named it Skyblade instead?’

It really does seem like a good fit.

The sword gave off a faint scent—strangely enough, it reminded me of the smell of a clear sky without a single cloud. It was that crisp and fresh.

’No, to be even more precise.’

It was a scent mixed from the night sky, flowers, and trees.

When all those blended together, it created that unmistakable scent of a clear sky.

”Well, either way, I’ll put it to good use. Thanks, Aetri.”

Aetri, who had briefly passed out, woke up and replied.

”Yes, sir.”

After leaving the forge, Enkrid went around showing the sword to everyone he met.

”Aetri doesn’t seem like the type to hold back something valuable for himself, right? Still, that’s the vibe I’m getting.”

That was Krais’s commentary, who didn’t really know what was going on, while the others just accepted it as it was.

”Is that one yours, Commander?”

”Yeah.”

That short exchange was all there was between Rem and me.

Even though the sword didn’t look particularly special, Enkrid kept noticing how comfortable and natural it felt in his hand.

After spending the rest of the day like that, Enkrid set out immediately.

He had finished preparing for departure long ago, just waiting for the Engraved Weapon.

”Safe travels.”

Krais came out to see him off, while Shinar walked right alongside him.

After a few steps, Enkrid started mumbling to himself.

”Yeah, we’re on the road now. Hoping something interesting happens? Me too.”

That was more or less what he said.

Seeing Shinar, who was walking quietly right beside him, Rem asked,

”Who’s the Commander talking to?”

Enkrid answered himself, sounding completely calm and unbothered.

”My baby.”

Rem blinked a couple of times.

He scratched his ear and checked Shinar’s expression—there was no sign of happiness whatsoever.

Of course, that kind of comment wasn’t meant for the fairy.

She was much older than Enkrid, many times over, so it made no sense to say such a thing to her.

So then, who was he talking to?

Ragna, curious as well, listened in quietly, and Jaxen, who had simply followed along in silence, paid close attention too

Whinny.

Weird Eyes, who had followed along as if he was coming to see them off, shook his head from side to side.

This remarkable Wild Horse understood human speech.

”Oh, no way?”

Rem asked, and Enkrid introduced him, completely matter-of-fact.

”You two haven’t met, right? Say hello. This is Duskforge.”

Rem didn’t curse.

This was entirely within the realm of what he expected.

”May serenity rest upon my brother’s head.”

That was all Audin prayed.

***